


Honey and Cinnamon Rolls

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Best Friends, Bi-Curiosity, Boys Kissing, Canon Gay Character, Canon Related, Cute Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Implied Masturbation, M/M, Male Friendship, Marco Bodt Week, Precious Cinnamon Bun, kinda i guess, rushed ending, sorry aboutt that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For #MarcoBodtWeek2015<br/>Precious Cinnamon Bun</p><p>the ending got a little out of hand</p><p>also<br/>CANON! CONNIE AND JEAN RELATIONSHIP<br/>HOW IT REALLY IS<br/>--<br/>or</p><p>How a simple unlocked door can ruin your week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey and Cinnamon Rolls

**Author's Note:**

> if you looked at the tags, youll see that one tag  
> yeah that one
> 
> *whispers* isayama stated marco is canonically gay <3

While Marco was friendly to everyone, talking to them when others wouldn’t, and knowing even the names of the most invisible of people’s names, he didn’t really have many ‘friend’ _friends_. It could be that he always hung out with his best friend, Jean, who scared everyone off, or that he let everyone else talk more than himself, so there was never a bond with the others. It also could’ve been that even if he made time for people and their interruptions, he was always busy rushing off to help someone with extra training, napping after a long night consoling the weeping, doing the laundry when people fought over the duties, or writing those letters he always kept so close to himself.

 

However, Armin and Marco were on better terms than most of the other cadets. They spent a lot of time talking about the shenanigans that their friends would get up to as they sat together, cleaning the maneuvering gear. They would laugh sometimes- Armin’s bell like sound nervous and unsure, Marco’s gentle rumble flowing through him like a soft river- and other times worry about the two boys they often had to keep at bay.

 

Lately, it was mostly Marco’s turn to do the main worrying, like today. He was going on quietly about how Jean was fighting a lot more, how Shadis was being more crueler than usual, and- again with Jean- what had happened at lunch, or really, right before. Apparently, as Marco walked to get in line, Jean trailing closely behind him, the boy was too focused on staring at the back of Mikasa’s head across the room to notice Marco had stopped, and ran smack dab right into the middle of Marco’s back, sending the taller of the two flipping over one of the mess hall’s tables, coming back up with food all over his face and button up. Not so much as a ‘sorry’ or ‘are you alright?’ from the other, who just looked a little shocked.

 

Armin listened in concern as Marco continued, sighing when he told the blonde that he wasn’t sure how to even talk to the distracted fool anymore- he was just too distant. What Armin noticed, however, as he polished a gear piece and set it down, was that Marco wasn’t talking as if this was a loss for the freckled male himself, but he was worried for Jean, thinking that if he goes on like this, he might not even make it into the top ten and accomplish his dream. He talked about how he no longer knew how to make Jean discuss his feelings. He talked about how Jean- who used to love physical contact- now jerked away from his touches. Now, Marco was describing how the two toned boy would just stare at walls during their conversations, not even listening, and how he was beginning to think this was all because of that time Jean had w-

 

Eren's rushing, loud footsteps halted that sentence, leaving Marco to shake his head as if to dispel the thought, wordlessly staring at the cold, stone floor. Out of breath, Eren grabbed Armin's shoulder, as well as his attention, "H- Hey, you, uh, got a minute, Arm'? It's for the- the _thing_."

 

Looking weakly at Marco, he opened his mouth, only to get answered by the larger, "Go ahead, Armin, I'll do your share. I'm almost done anyway." The dark, speckled face was smiling at him now, striking Armin with the question, _How many of those have been fake?_

 

Still, even if he felt guilty for having to leave when Marco had finally started to come out of his shell, complain to somebody about things for the first time Armin had seen, he knew what Eren was wanting him for was immensely important.

 

"Great!" Exclaimed the brunette and he tugged Armin up, hand sliding from his shoulder to the petite hand, clasping it tightly. The small figure head a tiny, hushed sigh, but didn't quite catch the rainforest floor eyes that watched the action with curious interest. Maybe a little desire as well.

 

With hunched shoulders, a rare frown that only appeared when he was alone etched into his cheeks, Marco continued to clean in solitude. Every now and then his fingers would begin to work faster, almost burning through the cloth, each time he was reminded of the look on Jean's face when he had opened the door that day. A couple cadets noticed some scratches on their gear, but didn't comment when they saw Marco leave, posture stiffer than usual and face hidden in shadows.

 

* * *

  
  


With Jean busy with something he wouldn't tell his best- and only- friend about during dinner, the freckled giant was left to only eat half of his food and smuggle the rest out later. Still, as he sat down, Connie called him over, noticing with glee that he was without his companion and alone. Unable to refuse, the ravenette wore his largest smile and plopped down, wondering just how the evening would end.

 

It wasn't a secret that Jean and Connie disliked each other- Connie with actual irritation for the taller of the two, Jean just because he didn't really like anyone expect Mikasa, Marco himself (though he was starting to doubt this), and maybe Armin- but this was ridiculous. It was hard for Marco not to flinch each time they cracked jokes about his 'Horseface' or arrogant attitude- which he shared with not only Eren, but many others in the squads, but Marco refrained from commenting this. The rude banter continued on until about halfway back to the barracks, where they started making dumb jokes about titans and food instead, which Marco politely laughed at along with the boys. Once they got to the door, it was opened to show Jean hastily shoving a few items under his bunk, face red with what Marco presumed to be both embarrassment and extortion.

 

"How do you even stand him? Jean I mean." Connie stage-whispered, directing the question to Marco and turning the conversion back to the 'laughing stock of the night'. Everyone in the 104th knew he couldn't keep himself quiet to save humanity. Jean looked up at this, but quickly turned away, though it was obvious that he was still listening carefully.

 

Shrugging, Marco didn't look away from Jean's back, staring into him with glazed, fond eyes and a small smile tugging at his lips, "He's really not as bad as you all make him out to be. He doesn't have any traits that you guys don't have as well and he's very interesting to talk to if you listen."

 

Everyone was quiet for a moment before someone in the crowd chuckled, "Looks like Bodt's getting all mushy for horse boy again." and the chatter of the guys pumped up again, lame jokes from earlier being repeated.

 

Separating himself from the group, Marco walked up to Jean, tapping him on the shoulder. When Jean turned around to look at him, expression empty, he held out the food he had saved, voice gentle, "Sorry if it's cold, but I noticed you weren't there for dinner and I didn't want you to go hungry."

 

Sliding his eyes from the meat wrapped in bread to Marco's eager, expectant smile and dropping them back to the outstretched arms, Jean took what he was offered without a word and a newly hardened exterior. Yet, Marco's own didn't fall- no matter how much it wanted to- but instead grew as he watched his friend slowly chew the bland remainders of dinner.

 

He cleared his throat after a moment, "I missed you at dinner tod-" he tried to whisper, but he could tell Jean was just staring past him again. It sent a jolt through him- pain? anger?- and it was hard to talk for a few seconds, "Ah, sorry. I meant to ask what you were up to. You love dinner, wouldn't..." It hurt to see Jean not care about what he had to say. He had been the one holding the conversations with himself recently and he was even asking about Jean. Was that not enough? "Miss it for the world..." Trailing off, Marco bit the inside of his cheek to hold back unwanted tears that threatened to spring to his eyes. _Not here, not in front of anyone else._

 

“Jean?” He asked, softer than he planned, but he was glad it still got the male named to look up at him. “Is there something going on? Is this about last we-”

 

“I’m tired. Let’s head to bed.” Jean interrupted with a yawn, as if Marco hadn’t spoke a word at all.

 

Releasing a quiet sigh to himself, he agreed, “You’re right, it’s kind of late.” Satisfied with that answer, Jean moved away with a nod to change clothes and Marco couldn’t help but wonder if he had ducked behind a beam on purpose.

 

* * *

  
  


This quiet was eating him up, drowning him in guilt and shame. Which was stupid, Marco reasoned. He shouldn’t be guilty for what he did, it was a basic human need, especially for testosterone filled teenagers such as himself. Deciding to speak up, Marco whispered towards the blankets his friend was currently cuddled up in, “Jean? Are you awake?”

 

There was no response for a few moments, like he was debating on pretending to be asleep or not, before the bundle moved, rolling over so amber eyes pierced his own, “Yeah?”

 

“Why are you avoiding me?” Marco wasn’t usually this blunt, typically beating around the bush to spare feelings. Maybe he had been spending too much time with his bunk buddy. Maybe this was getting to him.

 

They were both silent for a minute, maybe more- it felt like more- then Jean gulped audibly, Marco’s eyes subconsciously tracing the movement. The boy being watched shivered, shifting backward, much like corned prey. “Marco, I’m kinda tir-”

 

Huffing, Marco closed his eyes, trying not to get irritated, or worse, cry. He knew Jean couldn’t handle seeing him cry. “You know I’m not going to make a mo-”

 

The rustling of Jean sitting up made him freeze, waiting in the thick, tense air for Jean to do something other than just rub his eye. They just watched each other breathe, bodies separated by only inches, lips much farther away than that. It shouldn’t matter, but Jean was Marco’s best friend, who used to listen to him, who used to legitimately make him smile. It shouldn’t matter, but he knew he needed Jean. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if Marco didn’t have this overwhelming urge to sit up as well.

 

Just as he was starting to, sitting on his pillow, long torso still pointing towards the wall, Jean only inched away, making him pause, arms aching in protest, this was not a comfortable position. The hand that was pawing at his face soon slipped to Jean’s chest, facing outwards as if to tell Marco to stay back. “I- I just need some space right now, could you sleep-”

 

“Yeah.” Marco immediately answered, gaze following Jean’s other outstretched arm , gathering up his pillow and sliding down the bunk ladder and padding across room and to the extra bunk. It was suggested when Armin had gotten kicked out of bed in the middle of the night by Eren too many times, but trainees also used it for if they had a fight with their bunkmate and wanted to sleep alone. Marco shook his head, climbing the rafter- so Armin could just flop into the bottom bunk if he needed- he never thought he’d need to use it.

 

He never thought that Jean’s arm could have just been pointing to the other side of their shared bed, instead of the middle where Marco would usually sleep, either.

 

* * *

  
  


With his body unused to the warmth of not having the blankets ripped off of him in the middle of the night, Marco didn’t wake up as early as he usually did and only began to blearily open his eyes when the bed frame shook a little, motioning that someone was climbing up. Ah, that was why this one was the extra. It was the broken one. Sitting up with a groan, brown eyes flicked to see familiar sandy hair and cocoa eyebrows barely poking above the covers. However, they were gone with their owner on the floor as soon as he made a noise and Marco was left to full snap out of his dream like state alone, casting wistful gazes towards a specific mop of behead, all of which were not returned.

 

Armin watched him climb down and fumble for his pants, sympathy in his eyes. Marco only smiled sadly back, attention suddenly stolen when Eren and Jean’s voices raised, tugging at a sock, which in the end, belonged to Franz.

 

However, when Marco went to tend to Jean, just as Armin was to Eren, he stormed out, hair a bird's nest and arm not even in his sleeve yet. Automatically, Marco took a step to follow after him, but stopped, falling short, as he remembered the rejected words he was told last night.

 

_"I- I just need some space right now,"_

 

Armin left Eren's side to place an arm on one of the defeated shoulders, but when Marco smiled at him, more happier than before, he knew it was his cue to continue getting ready.

 

Marco and Jean didn't see each other at all during the day. Whether it was Jean actively avoiding him, the sudden amounts of people flocking to him, desperate for extra help, or a mixture of both, Marco didn't know. It was a little boring, but Marco didn't say so out loud, and neither did his smiles.

 

* * *

  
  


Every once in a while, the cadets had a little extra spare time, time to do whatever they want, which usually consisted of going into the little town only a twenty minute walk from the training camps. Jean and Marco would always go together and put their money together to get something from the pastry shop. Marco's favorite was the cinnamon rolls, but Jean wasn't really a big fan, so they always got a slice of cheesecake to share. They both liked that, but they also both knew that whatever Jean suggested was what they would get.

 

So when Mina asked if he had plans to do anything and Marco realized he didn't have enough change to get even the cheapest of sweets, he shook his head. He swore, the way her eyes lit up was one of the best things he had seen in these past few days and he offered her a hand to drag wherever she wanted him to go. As they were about to step out of the mess hall, Jean, who seemed to have been leaning against one of the columns, stopped them, stepping in front of the couple.

 

His gaze flickered to where their hands were intertwined and Marco felt a surge within him, and he wanted to jerk away from those judgemental eyes, ripping his hand away from Mina’s. However, she smiled, squeezing his finger confidently. Jean’s amber orbs trailed up his arm and stayed on his face, looking up into Marco’s own eyes lazily, but with such intensity that it made Marco swallow hard. Blatantly ignoring Mina, Jean crossed his arms over his chest, “ ‘ was wonderin’ when you’d get here.”

 

“Do you need Marco for something, Jean?” Mina asked for the boy, bless her heart, as if knowing Marco wouldn’t be able to speak up himself. _Girls_ , Marco thought to himself in a daze, _They really do know everything._

 

“Yeah,” Jean didn’t even spare her a glance, words falling out of his mouth like he was talking to Marco. Wanting him to know that this was for him, for ignoring him.

 

It was easy to kid himself when Jean was there, standing in front of him, “We’re gonna hit that pastry place down the road, we do it every time.”

 

“Oh,” Mina’s voice didn’t even drop and Marco was beginning to think she- “Maybe next time? Marco and I are on a date.”

 

That was a real attention grabber, considering that even Jean looked over, arms dropping, Marco tensing and spluttering, “We a-are?!”

 

Cocking her head, she looked at him in confusion and maybe a little irritation. Kind of one of those ‘Well, duh’ looks. He didn’t get those very often, but he had seen enough sent to Jean to know what it meant.

 

However, Jean was laughing after a moment and Marco looked back to him. Was he laughing at Marco because that was practically the first time he’s got that look? Did Marco look dumb? Did h- “Honey, he’s gay.”

 

Marco tongue’s was suddenly very heavy, unable to help him form any words past ‘wh- na- ya’. How dare Jean just blurt that out? What if he didn’t want to come out? Were the guys gonna make fun of him? Were they gonna distance themselves from him like Jean did when he found out?

 

_Like Jean did._

 

Before Mina got a chance to look past anything that wasn’t shock, Marco dropped her hand and clenched his fist, as if he was going to punch Jean, who was just now beginning to sober up again. Jean quickly noticed what was going to happen and threw his hands up, “Whoa, Marco, I’m so so-”

 

“Excuse me, Mina. And yes, I’m gay. Sorry for giving you the wrong idea.” He smiled, perhaps a bit too sweetly, and grabbed Jean by the back of his jacket and forcefully dragged him to the barracks, ignoring his fidgeting. When Jean had attempted to yell, Marco tugged a little harshly and told him in a tone that was just dripping with honey, “If you breathe a word, I’ll pull you by your bleached strands instead of your shirt.” He was shut up quite quickly.

 

Once he got to their bunk room, he threw the door open, thinking no one was there, and shoved Jean inside, arms on his chest, nose to nose, eyes furious as he opened his mouth to give Jean the scathing of a lifetime, only to hear a chorus of “Surprise!”. Grinning, Jean pushed him back and pointed behind himself. There was most of the 104th, all crowded in the back, above them a sign that read, “Marco, the precious cinnamon bun, too good for this world.” in a design that looked like glaze. There, in the front middle, was Armin, holding a tray of cinnamon rolls. His _favorite_. The ones with the pink, strawberry glaze.

 

He instantly softened, tears pricking at his eyes and for the first time in a long time, happy ones. He covered his mouth and whoever had been concerned with him barging in and throwing Jean around smiled as well.

 

“Thank you, Marco, for confiding in me and being there when my friends couldn’t be.” Whispered Armin.  
  
“Thank you, Marco, for helping me with training when I needed it.” Came Thomas.  
  
Everyone in the room began to thank him, and at some point Marco was handed the tray of cinnamon rolls.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hehn, Jawhm?” Marco asked as they sat, perched on their bunk, stuffing their faces with the cinnamon buns, which Jean apparently had grown to like. He just wanted to eat, Marco thought with a roll of his eyes.

 

“Yesha?” Jean asked back, somehow smearing the pink coloring even more all over his cheek. Marco resisted the urge to wipe it off.

 

Swallowing, he looked up, reaching for another bun, but not taking a bite just yet. “You never thanked me.”

 

“Osh, tansh.” Jean murmured around his own, still stuffing his face. Marco rolled his eyes again.

 

“No, I meant earlier. When Armin and them were thanking me. You didn’t say anything.”

 

If Jean was staring at his roll before, he was burning a hole through it now. He finished that bite and blushed, Marco trying not to laugh at his embarrassment. “Thank you, Marco, for sticking by me even when I pushed you away for no reason.”

 

“You had a reason. It was because I’m gay, right?”

 

He shrugged, “Kinda. I mean, it was because seeing you there… You know… And m- my name… I kinda found it hot.”

 

Marco, who had taken a bite as he was listening to Jean explain himself, choked, spitting it into his lap. Jean grimaced before continuing, watching Marco put it in a secluded corner of the tray. “So, yeah, I freaked out a little bit and tried to notice what I especially liked about Mikasa…”

 

Marco motioned for him to continue, trying to clean up his dribble, “And it turned out that everything I liked about her was really masculine traits. I mean, I loved her abs, her strength, her black hair…”

 

Marco nodded, he understood. He was kind of like that with his eighth grade teacher. She was very… Built. And also very gay.

 

“And then I noticed them when I looked at you.” Marco choked on his spit this time and Jean smacked his arm, “Stop dying for a second- I’m trying to confess, you dumbass!”

 

But when Marco wouldn’t stop laughing, Jean eventually joined in as well. It was several minutes of wonderful, much needed mirth, but when the laughter slowed and their eyes sought each other out again, Marco reached for the glaze, wiping some on his thumb and brushing it across Jean’s bottom lip. Said male quivered just a moment before he tilted his head, enjoying the brushing of his mouth against Marco’s own when it came.

 

“Honey, you’re gay.”

 

“Marco, I will punch you in the throat.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is the same user as my ao3! :D


End file.
